Debts
by Pen52
Summary: Debts are meant to be repaid, rather than forgotten. But at what price? Based on Valine’s wonderful NWN module ‘A Dance with Rogues’
1. Prologue

A.N.: This story is based on Valine's wonderful NWN module 'A Dance with Rogues'. All of you reading this that haven't played it, should. Really.

This story starts before the Dwarf City, and goes on from there. What I wanted to do here is put the main character in an impossible situation and see if she could claw her way out of it with her soul intact. Or to see how she would shatter. Because of the subject matter handled in the module, this story will feature mature themes.

All characters mentioned in this prologue, except for Riana, are the property of Valine.

_**...**_

_**Debts**_

**_..._**

_Prologue_

* * *

...

Sound carried in the caverns – Riana's own steps, feather-light, rang in her ears; a persistent chiming of a copper bell. Steps trailing behind her echoed louder; like someone had banged a gong at feeding time. And kept banging it – dinner being served. _By Mask's hanging sack, if someone steps on those lava rocks one more time…_ Fear nestled in the pit of her stomach – one hand in the air, she signaled a halt.

Paranoia; no other word for it. But it would keep them alive. Better overly cautious than dead.

Silence followed, a drawn out, eerie absence of all sound, except for the steady dripping of deep water that carried a chill to her bones. What she wouldn't give for a fire and a warm blanket around her shoulders, for the comfort of it, if nothing else. Sucking in yet another mouthful of stuffy air, Riana willed herself to move.

A whisper from her left, "Getting jittery, birdie?" She'd felt him before he spoke – the chill of a bucket of icy water being spilled over your head. His voice crawled its way up her spine, dredging up memories best left to rot. Bracing herself, Riana shook away the fear… and the hate. Not the time for it, yet.

"Trying to keep us breathing," she whispered back. "This would be easier if you'd keep your mouth shut." A fragment of a rock crunched beneath her left foot, making her cringe. _Wonderful_.

Vico chuckled – a picture of her dragging a knife across his throat flashed in her mind – then said, "Careful, sweetness." His fingers brushed against the curve of her waist, making her hand move towards a sheath of a dagger. "I might think you don't love me." Giving her waist a squeeze, he fell back in line.

Riana tasted bile in her throat – his fingers; she could feel their imprint on her skin, even through the leather. Distracted, she missed a step, and something snapped beneath her foot again, the echo bouncing off the walls. Impotent rage coiled in her belly. Nothing she could do about it, now – _an hour, just me, him, and a dull blade _– they needed to make as little noise as possible, here in the open. Stealth would keep them alive.

If only the bastard would leave her alone. Vico got off on fear, that much she could tell. Smelled it somehow, even through layer upon layer of bull. Truth was, the fear was there to stay, no matter how good she'd got, no matter how strong.

They both knew it. For as long as he drew breath, she'd never be free of it.

Her fingers traced the hilt of a knife sheathed on her left thigh – the knife she'd kept, but never used. _My virgin blade_. The steel still had her blood on it, the copper tang now a part of the pattern edged into the knife. She'd recognized it – _he pressed it under her chin, cutting in when she'd try to move _– lying there on Nathan's table when the old man had welcomed her into the Family. Had that been just three months ago? Nathan hadn't left that there – he'd almost looked surprised, if such a thing was possible. The old man hadn't said anything, but hadn't objected when she'd taken it either.

Vico's '_gift' _– I'd _say those few minutes on the floor are a fair price for your life_ – a crass joke, a message and a challenge, all in one. He was all for rubbing salt into an open wound. The why of it didn't matter, though. While her lips had vowed allegiance to the Family, her soul had made a vow of its own.

The next time that knife drew blood, the blood would be his.

And then all hell broke loose. Revenge had to take a back seat to getting the others out of that prison hell hole. Then, all of her debts would be paid. Except for one. Deep breath drawn, Riana unclenched her fingers and focused on the here and now. Again cautious, she slowly made her way down a winding path leading into a valley made out of hollowed out rock – _rest and shelter, Tyr let it be empty _– the others trailing some distance behind her. No traps. No tracks that she could see, aside from some smaller animals Anden pointed out. And a rock formation on the bottom that would hide them from sight on three out of four sides. A smile lifted the corner of her mouth. Far from perfect, but it would do.

"We rest here."

The ready sound of dropping equipment and tired groans told Riana she'd get no argument there.

"Norah and I will take the first and second watch." Bran. If he wanted to stay awake, he was welcome to it. At least with him on watch, she wouldn't have to sleep with one eye open. "You need your rest," he said, his hand closing around her forearm. Gentle, friendly. She never flinched when he touched her. "The gods know you've earned it."

Anden nodded. "He's right m'lady." Concerned eyes scanned her face. "Don't take offence, but you look asleep on your feet."

_Bless your tact, ranger_. "No offence taken." Her shoulders moved in a half-hearted shrug. "You have a knack for understatements, friend."

Norah gave Riana a pat on the back. She would have keeled over, if not for Pia's steadying hand – not an encouraging sign. "Well, Anden would never say that you look like something that a bear just chewed through and spat out."

Anden cleared his throat. "And on that cheerful note, I'll bid you good night." A nod and a whispered 'm'lady' and he pulled his lady-love to the side. Or his latest romp, if you'd listen to Norah – Anden, with his rigid morals, made an all too easy target to mock.

A smile forced its way onto Riana's face, watching the two of them – followed by a fair bit of envy. They made it look so easy, letting go. Chewing down on her lower lip, she glanced in Bran's direction. It was good – having him and his sister here, as added muscle and as people to travel with. As friends, even. Better not get too used to it, though. She couldn't start to depend on it.

Here one day, gone the next. Tis' how life was.

Bran had his own vengeance to see to. And even if she could trust him, trust them to stay, what could she offer in exchange? Except for the very real chance of Vico slitting his throat while he slept.

A blanket got draped over her shoulders – her stomach dropped to her heels. "Go to sleep, birdie." She shrugged Vico's hands off, along with the blanket. "Fine. Fall flat on your face tomorrow." Another chuckle – a breath of air that tickled the back of her neck and made goose-bumps rise on her arms – before he left her personal space.

"Drop dead, Vico," she said, keeping her voice steady. Hoping for just the right amount of bored and tired. _Leave me alone_. Just this once.

"Offer to ride me to death." Trying to push her buttons. "That might work."

Riana kept her silence. If only she could forget about Nathan, Chella and the others. Just for a moment – enough to slit his throat in the dark. A moment, and it would be over.

A moment that could never come – she had a snowball's chance in hell to free the old man without Vico's help. And debts were meant to be settled, not forgotten. The Dhorn would have charred the flesh from her bones if Nathan hadn't come after her. Riana sucked in a deeper breath and crouched to get a blanket out of her pack. _Never betray trust_.

Sleep did not come easily.

_---------------------_

_"Mother!"_

_She's running through well known corridors, now slick with blood. If she stops, she's dead. She can hear the Dhorn, closing in on her._

_"Father, help me!"_

_Bruising fingers drag her to a small storage room. She knows better than to scream – the Dhorn are on the other side of the door. When the same fingers tear her clothes off, in the space of a ragged breath, she whispers for her parents. Struggles, even as she knows she can't win. Whishing that he'd kill her._

_Because she knows what he'll say next._

_"They're all dead, birdie."_

Fingers brushing her shoulder jolted Riana awake – blurry eyes snapped open to fix on Vico's face above her.

No!

When he got hold of her wrist before she could drive the knife in, Riana had a hard time deciding between disappointment and relief. She settled on keeping her hand from shaking. Vico just threw his head back and laughed, kissed her wrist, then sat down to start his watch, with a grin on his handsome face.

_Fucking bastard._

That's why he woke her – so she would know he was there, watching her. As if she didn't get enough of his staring during her waking hours. Riana pulled the blanket around her tighter.

How long until he tired of just watching?

_Merciful Tyr. Where is your justice, now?_


	2. Crossing the line

_Debts_

Crossing the line

* * *

-

A tightly packed, leather bag dropped on the bed, making a cloud of dust rise from the thin blanket. Jaw clenched, Riana muttered a curse under her breath, then one more, louder, her hand wrapping around the bed frame, imagining a short, stocky neck underneath it.

_Dwarves_!

Anden shifted beside her, clearly uncomfortable. "It is not much, my lady." Five steps to the left, and he sat down on one of the beds, hesitating. "But it is better than another night of sleeping on the ground."

Riana shifted to meet his eyes, the muscles in her arms clenching. "If you think I'm this pissed off on account of a little dust and a sprinkling of cobweb, you'd give the village idiot a run for his money." Her hand tightened around the bed frame, knuckles turning white.

Anden's whole body flinched at the words – Norah stiffened with him.

_Too harsh?_

Riana rolled her shoulders and looked away. Damned if she'd apologize now. The ranger would benefit from developing thicker skin, and her blood still boiled from the conversation with the dwarf. But… she would need a clear head for this. Riana leaned back, against the wall, expelling a series of steadying breaths, breathing in through her nose, counting to five and exhaling through her mouth. Her fingers found the familiar pressure points, just like Hatori had taught her. Slowly, the rage – and the helplessness – faded away, slipped like water through her grasping fingers, leaving a strange sort of peace in its wake.

Taking another deep, grateful breath, Riana smiled despite herself and shook her head. _Gods keep you safe, Hatori._ "That went well," she said.

That, in turn, got everyone's attention.

Pia's eyebrows shot up to her hairline. "_Well_?"

Riana's smile widened – getting a rise out of Pia would never grow tiring. Besides, a little tension would keep the girl on her toes.

"The guard threatened to disembowel you." The bard spoke slowly, as if trying to get through to an addled child. Riana's smile went up another notch or so. "Then actually _tried_ to disembowel you."

Laughter bubbled up, beneath the surface, stemmed in joy or in buried panic, Riana couldn't tell. She rasped her knuckles against the wood instead. "He _is_ a dwarf. Trying to behead me would have been embarrassing for the both of us."

The joke earned her another glare. Vico chuckled in the background, which was enough to sober her.

"Would have been fun, watching you gut short-stack, birdie." Vico's eyes trailed up and down her frame. "Haven't seen you so fired up in days." His gaze lingered, then shifted upwards to find her eyes and hold them – she saw approval, amusement, condescension… and casual lust that he didn't bother to hide away.

She should have gotten used to it by now, but… The tide of rage seeped back in, an upwards trickle into Riana's awaiting palms.

_Going from amused to angry in t__hirty seconds flat. That man has a gift_.

Anden coughed, as polite as ever. "Perhaps insulting our hosts is not the best way to gain an audience with their king."

Politeness was in short supply now a day, granted. Riana didn't miss it much. "Good thinking, there, Anden," she said, drawing the words out. "That didn't cross my mind."

"Obviously, it hadn't." Norah chimed in, her hand curling around Anden's waist. A flicker of honest amusement pushed past Riana's annoyance, fallowed by a more practical sense of satisfaction and purpose.

_Supportive little thing, isn__'t she?_

Riana liked the warrior woman and her brother well enough. What was there not to like? They were competent, honorable… _useful_ – both as a blade that could be directed against her enemies and as a shield between her and Vico. She _needed_ them to stay. Besides, they weren't half bad company.

Anden whispered something in Norah's ear, who then traced his thigh in a way that made the ranger squirm and move away. The sight drew a smile out of Riana, tinged with equal parts tenderness and self-interest._ Love him, you barbarian witch_. _Love him enough to stand by me._

Bran stepped closer, a broad smile on his face "My sister will make a man of him, yet."

"I wouldn't hold my breath," Pia whispered, with a scowl on her face that looked permanently etched in when ever Anden was in a five foot radius.

Riana bit her lip to keep a bark of laughter from escaping. Anden _was_ a friend, and his pride got dented enough for one day.

Bran walked up to her, hands on his hips. "It's a challenge, I'll give you that," he shrugged, eyes dancing with amusement. "But Norah likes a challenge." Tilting his head down, he gave Riana a teasing half smile. "So do I."

Riana found it hard to look away – a warm feeling spread through her, all the way down to her toes… followed by chilly tendrils of fear. What now? Pull or push? Damn it all to the Abyss when she couldn't even feel attracted to a man without wanting to run in a corner and vomit. "I knew a man once, who told me the same thing," Riana said. _Pushing away it is, then_. "The Dhorn cut out his tongue before they disemboweled him." Charon had always had a way with words – curse the Dhorn for taking that away from him.

Vico snorted in the background. "Still on about that, birdie?" He sat on one of the beds, a few paces away, sword over his knee and a sharpening rock in hand. "I suppose I can see why you're reminded of him. Your current little darling is just as clumsy as that one was." The clipped words put Riana on edge. "And just as likely to get himself killed."

Bran tensed beside her. "Is that a threat?"

Shrugging, Vico pushed the sharpening stone down the blade's edge. "A fact." The sound echoed in the following silence. "Better hurry if you want him in between your thighs before that, princess."

Norah cut in before Riana could spit out an answer. "Now, now, Vico. Play nice." When Norah shook her head, the light caught in her red hair. "It's not my brother's fault you're frustrated." She gave Vico a wide, wolfish smile. "Why don't you find yourself a nice dwarven wench and do something about that?" The smile widened. "I'm sure she won't mind the smell if you don't mind the beard."

The sound of Pia's laughter bounced off the walls, a high, warm sound, while Vico's face darkened with rage – in that moment, Riana couldn't love Norah more, but she had to keep the peace; she'd learned that early in their journey.

"Enough." Riana made her voice soft, made herself look at Vico without malice. "We've got bigger things to worry about. Like the fact that we're stuck here until the little runts decide it's safe to open that damn gateway."

With a last hateful glance at Norah, Vico nodded, his expression turning thoughtful. "Or until they decide that letting a pack of outsiders leave their hidden city is not such a great idea after all."

_Lo and behold, we actually agree on something._ "You're right," she nodded back. "Question is, what do we do about it?"

Vico's hands wrapped around the hilt of his sword. "Well, we _could_ fight our way through. Kill enough of the smelly bastards and chances are, they'll scatter to the upper city to regroup."

"And then what?" Pia's purple cloak rustled and bunched when she sat down on one of the beds. "The pointless butchering of out hosts aside, let me single out a tiny flaw in that otherwise brilliant plan of yours." Her voice dripped sarcasm. "In case you haven't noticed, the door to the lower levels in heavily warded. Riana can't pick the lock and I can't dispel the wards. We don't have the key. It follows that the only way that we're getting through is if and when they decide to let us." Arms folded across her chest, Pia raised an eyebrow and said, "So, do you have a plan to open that door, Vico? Other than banging your head against it?"

Eyes closed, Riana suppressed a sigh. She could guess the plan – she'd had thoughts along the same lines herself. "We steal the key."

"That's my girl," Vico said. That smirk just begged to be wiped off his face with her fist.

"You don't know where they keep it, Riana." With a frown. Bran shook his head. "Or even if it is a key we're after. What if an incantation opens the door, or a hidden lever? You can't know."

Riana took a breath and held it. "No, I can't." Vico's smile widened. It figured he would know what she was about to say. "But, the Lorekeeper's guards likely know. And they have to change shifts sometime during the night. "

"And you think that they'll talk to you, just like that?" Pia touched Riana's arm, briefly. "I'm sorry, honey, as big as your tavern tab gets, they are dwarves. I don't think you can get them quite _that_ drunk."

"Gods, woman, are you really that dense?" A knife suddenly appeared in Vico's hand. "We'll ask them nicely." The blade glinted in the torch light. "Once." The smile that spread across his face sent shivers down Riana's spine. She'd seen that smile before – in circumstances she didn't want to think about.

Pia paled. "Torture?" Her blue eyes widened. "Riana, you can't be serious!"

Bran's lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn't say a word. Norah followed his lead.

Vico laughed. "We can let birdie try and fuck the dwarf for the key first if that offends your sensibilities less, Pia darling."

"Shut up, Vico," Riana softly said, out of habit, now, rather than real anger.

A note of pleading snuck into Pia's voice. "We can't do this, Riana. These dwarves did nothing to us. There has to be another way!"

"She is right." Anden spoke up, leaning against the doorway. "I can not and will not condone such an act."

"Ranger boy doesn't have what it takes to get the job done. What a surprise." Vico sheathed the knife and nodded at Riana. "I've got your back on this. You sneak up on the guard, knock him out, and we drag him out of the city." White teeth flashed again. "Then, the fun can begin."

It had been her idea, Riana knew, but did he have to sound so gods damned pleased about it?

"My lady…"

"I know, Anden." Riana couldn't keep the irritation out of her voice. "We're just discussing options. Nothing needs to be done tonight."

"Like hell it doesn't." Vico's hand gripped her shoulder. "The sooner we do this, the more chance we have to catch them with their pants down."

Riana shrugged his hand off. "As tempting as the prospect of a bear-assed dwarf is, I want to give talking a shot first. Meet with the Loremaster tomorrow, see if we can bargain or buy our way through." Thing was, though, Vico had a point. The world had turned into a sad place indeed when his kind started making sense.

Vico sneered at her. "You told me that there was nothing you wouldn't do to get them out. I should have known you were all talk."

She'd disappointed him. How sad. "I'm weighing our options," Riana said. "We can't help the old man if we're dead. Why risk getting killed here if there is no need for it?"

"That's right," Pia said, hopeful. "They'll be reasonable, you'll see."

Anden hesitated before nodding once. "All right, then." His eyes found Riana's and held them. "I pray that you will forget this insanity by morning."

Did he have to be so damn _earnest_? Riana felt like dirt already, without his preaching. "Come morning, I'll do what I have to, Anden." Story of her life. "Like always."

Vico gave her a cold look. "I'll hold you to that, birdie."

In the following silence, Bran tilted his head to the left, towards an empty room. "A word, " he said, in a quiet voice. For some reason, Riana's stomach dropped to her heals.

"Going to try and talk her out of it?" Vico already had the sharpening rock back in his hand. "I wouldn't, if I were you." The downward motion of the stone continued.

"When I want your opinion, I will ask for it."

Bran walked through the adjoining doorway, and Riana followed him to a room that was much the same as the one they just left – shaky beds with thin blankets that had a generous layer of dust on top of them. If she'd heard one more tale about legendary dwarven hospitality, there'd be hell to pay. Her gaze swept the room, but nothing there could distract her from her sweating palms, or the nervous stuttering of her heart.

Would he threaten to leave? She'd been so sure before, with Anden. Why couldn't she find the same certainty with him? "Look, Bran…"

Bran stopped her with a raised hand. "Before you say anything, let me share a story with you."

Off balance now, Riana said, "This isn't going to be one of those moral parables, is it?"

With a smile, Bran shook his head. "No. I'm not fond of those either." With a firm gentleness, Bran guided her to sit on one of the beds, then he leaned against the wall in front of her. "There are parts that I left out, when we talked before, as I'm sure you have, when you told me your own story." Riana's hands clenched around the blanket, now sure that she wouldn't like where this was going. He continued, "We made a choice, long ago, me and my sister. To hunt down and kill the ones who slaughtered our clan. We tracked Chruz-Pa and his men across many lands and, one by one, we killed them all. Each time, Chruz-Pa stayed ahead of us, and those we found would point us in his direction before they died."

His dark eyes closed before he breathed out,. "But not all of them would talk."

_Oh._

Bran's voice carried to her ears, quiet and steady. "We did what we did, and the gods will judge us all in the end. I understand what drives you, Riana. My debt is to the dead, but yours is to the living, and they don't have the luxury of time."

A lump formed in Riana's throat. In the drawn out silence, Riana longed to cover his hand with her own. She closed her eyes instead. "Thank you," she whispered. For understanding. For absolution.

"I won't judge you. I won't even stop you."

"I couldn't let you stop me," Riana said. It was a sad truth, but why did her throat feel so dry?

"But take it from someone who knows. Torture leaves a mark on the soul." Bran pushed away from the wall, his eyes still on her. "One that does not wash away." With a nod, Bran moved towards the doorway. "I will leave you, now. You have much to think about."

Riana remained in the room, still clutching at the frayed blanket, confused, afraid and elated all at once. Anden's sermonizing, Vico's casual cruelty, or Pia's perplexing innocence – she could handle that, call them personality quirks and work around that. But this quiet understanding… that was something new. And it wasn't healthy for her. Not after she'd worked so hard to make herself into someone else. Someone who would remember the sight of blood and semen drying on her thighs and the screaming voices of the dying. Who could use it to cut into a man's flesh to get what she wanted and slit his throat in the dark afterwards.

No man would make her weak again.

With a shake of her head, Riana tried to chase the warmth away, but a connection remained, a feeling of being protected that stubbornly seeped through her skin whenever Bran smiled at her, or brushed her shoulder in greeting. A warm feeling that made Riana remember things best left forgotten. The memory of her mother's smile and the way her father's hand had felt like against her cheek. Memories of being safe, cared for… loved. A time when she could look at a man with all the innocence of youth, and wonder how another's hands might feel on her skin.

How Vico would laugh at that._ Haven't you learned anything, yet, little girl? _

She'd learned plenty. Enough to fill her dreams with blood, fire and vengeance, but when Riana wakes up, her parents' heads are still mounted on the castle walls, and she still clutches at a dagger whenever a man tries to touch her. Lesson learned. Help always came with a price attached. Fanciful thinking wouldn't get the job done or help her rescue the old man.

But Bran just made the girl wake up with a touch and a smile, and the woman couldn't help but hate him a little for it.

"So, are you going to sit there all day, or are we going to look for supplies before the runts decide to kill us all in our sleep?"

Riana sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "How about you handle it, Vico, and leave me alone for a spell?"

"I would, but the stench outside is too much for me." Vico sniffed at the air. "Though, the stench in here isn't much better. It reeks of a Chult whore-bread bastard."

Riana's head snapped up, a curse on her lips, but she bit her tongue when she saw the anger in Vico's eyes.

_Keep the peace. _

She pushed herself off the bed and past Vico. "Try not to start a bloodbath if a merchant looks at you wrong."

A moment passed before she heard laughter behind her. "No promises, birdie. My patience has it's limits."

She'd heard that before. She couldn't forget it.

* * *

-

"_Fuck it, birdie!" Vico kicked at the cave wall, sending chunks of rock and dirt flying through the air. "I'm not spending another minute with those two inbred Chults." _

_Leaning against the opposite wall, Riana fought back a wave of irritation. __"Do you have something against upping our odds for survival? I didn't peg you for the suicidal type."_

_With a scowl, Vico__ stepped closer to her, too much so for her comfort. "I'm not." His fingers twitched, before they balled into fists. "I don't trust them. And I want them gone."_

_That__ old song and dance again. "We don't always get what we want, Vico." She should know. "You'll live." _

_Two more steps, and he was right in__ front of her. Hoping to intimidate her, no doubt. Vico placed both hands on the wall, trapping her between the stone and his chest. Riana willed herself not to move – you don't tease a rabid dog by running. _

"_I take what I want, birdie,__" he said. His eyes locked on hers. "You should remember that." _

_Son of a bitch. __A tingle of fear ran down Riana's spine, followed by a bolt of anger. The tips of her fingers grew warm with magic, her innate power rising to the surface. _

_In a more casual voice, Vico said, "Besides, you can't tell me that you trust two complete strangers not to betray us to the Dhorn." Leaning in, he rubbed his cheek against hers. "Mmm… you're getting warm." _

_It took all of Riana's willpower not to flinch away. __"Better a stranger in front of me, than behind me, giving the Dhorn directions." Her voice was ice. "Move away." _

"_Make me." Vico's hand traced her shoulder, his fingers digging hard into the flesh once, before letting go. "Maybe you should have thought of that before you opened your big mouth."_

"_It's done. They're useful." The words came out clipped, half-growled. "They stay." _

_Vico leaned in, warm lips brushing Riana's ear, sending a ripple of revulsion through her. "I'm not asking you. I'm telling you." His breath tickled her cheek. "Get rid of them, or I will." His hands brushed the sides of her breasts before he stepped back, a mocking smile on his lips. He got under her skin again, and he knew it. _

_Vivid red – __the color of rage in bards' songs. Why red, when hers was pitch black? Riana felt flames dance across the length of her arm, gathering in her upturned palm, trying to break free – in a cavern with structurally unsound walls. That wouldn't do at all._

'_Calm. Control.'_

_Grasping a__ tamed fireball in one hand, Riana traced the hilt of her sword with the other. "I don't recall giving a fuck about what you want before, Vico." She made her voice sickly sweet. "What makes you think I'll start now?" _

_Vico laughed__, eyes lingering on her sword hand, before spiting on the ground. "Save your posturing for someone you can actually scare into submission. That's a short list, and I'm not on it." He pointed at the ball of flame in her hand. "So put that away before I put you over my knee." _

_Riana itched to burn that expression from his face and then cut it off for good measure. "I've killed better men than you for less." If she was talking about the threat or that night long ago, she didn't know herself. _

"_I don't doubt that, birdie. I __**am**__ a bad, bad man." Vico's hands crossed over his chest. "Mind you, I've been told that adds to the charm."_

_Riana took a deep breath, too focused on keeping the rage at bay to answer. _

_Vico smirked at her silence. "Jealous? I might show you a trick or two if you ask me nicely enough." His eyes lingered on her breasts. "Don't worry, I'd make it last longer this time." _

_And just like that, the black haze lifted – the anger and the disgust ran so deep that they somehow shifted into calm. Riana let the flames seep back into her skin and her hands relaxed at her sides. "Not a shred of decency in you, is there?" An alien fascination filled her, as if she were watching a strange animal. "Not that I expected to find any." She'd surprised him, she could tell by the slight stiffening of his posture. He'd expected rage, not this calm. _

_Fair enough, since she'd hardly expected it either. "How did you get so twisted?" She hadn't meant to ask that._

_Vico's eyes narrowed. "Not all of us grew up in shiny castles."_

_Riana shrugged__. "Not a lot of men do. Yet most of them are not rapists and murderers." _

_With a tilt of his head, Vico drawled, "You're a fine one to talk of murder. There's blood on your hands, princess." But he didn't mention rape._

_Riana shrugged before answering. __"Dhorn blood." That hardly counted._

"_Among others."_

"_I never killed anyone that didn't deserve it ten times over." Rick Cars readily sprang to mind. One more rapist the world was better rid off. That had been justice, not murder. _

_Vico leaned back, against the opposite wall. __"I could say the same."_

_Right. __"And you'd be lying."_

"_And what if I was?" His voice rose, agitated. "It's their lot in life."_

"_What others can take away from__ you, you don't deserve to keep." Vico had said that to her. "I remember," Riana nodded. He own voice sounded strange to her, too calm and collected. Like they were discussing the weather. "Thank you for the lesson." _

_Vico looked __at her, eyes narrowing. "You're off your rocker, birdie." Perhaps she was. "Are we done, now? Or do you need to tell me how much you hate me one more time? "_

_W__ords poured out, even though she hadn't meant to say them out loud. "You're a vulture. How can I hate an animal for doing what it does?"_ _The flare of rage in his eyes made the strange mood clear, and Riana bit down on her tongue. Where the hell had that come from? _

"_That so?" Vico pushed away from the wall. "I'd like to see how you'd make it through these monster infested caves without this animal." His hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword. "Push me a bit more, and we'll find out." _

_The possibility__ that he meant it set in, spreading its icy tendrils through her body. Nathan, Chella, Mando… The names ran through Riana's head like a temple chant. She'd better learn how to keep her mouth shut. Before Vico could turn around and leave, Riana called out, "I need you." That got his attention. "I do. Your strength, your skill, your ruthlessness. I can't do this without you." She nearly choked on every word._

_If there was justice in the world, the smile he gave her w__ould have earned him a flesh wound at least. "Why, princess, you're turning me on."_

_His mouth was the only thing of his Riana didn't need. She might as well say the rest of it; the truth wouldn't cost her anything but her pride. "Bran and Norah," Vico's face darkened again at the mention of them, "they're good people, but they are not in this for the long haul. They have their own goals and I'm not laying any bets on them staying on beyond a point." That she hoped for it, prayed for it, Vico didn't need to know._

"_Why not get rid of them, then?"_

"_Why would we?" Why was he so hell bent on it, anyway? Riana chose to ignore the obvious answer. That kind of thinking only lead to headaches and reoccurring nightmares. "I won't turn help away. The old man needs us, Vico. We're all he's got, and there is nothing I won't do to get to him." _

"_Nothing?" Vico tilted his head down. "That covers a whole lot of ground, birdie. You sure about that?"_

"_I pay my debts, Vico."_

"_Let's do this by the numbers." The boyish smile he gave her looked out of place on his face. "Would you kill for them?"_

_What kind of question was that? __"What's it look like I've been doing so far?"_

_His smile just widened. __"Torture?"_

_Tyr forgive her, yes. __"If I had to. I just wouldn't enjoy it like you do."_

"_How about fucking the enemy? Would you enjoy that?" The smile turned into a leer._

_Anger rose up again. __"I'd enjoy sticking a knife in your gut. But, even that, if I had to. What's left of my virtue isn't worth risking their lives."_

_A moment passed before Vico spoke again. __"How about me?"_

_Riana's stomach dropped to her heals.__ "What about you?" A cold seeped through her, making it hard to breathe._

_He took a step towards her. __"If I told you that I walk if you don't open those pretty thighs for me right now, would you do it?"_

_She growled out the answer. __"I'd tell you to go and stick it to a corpse. They don't fight back."_

_Laughter bounced off the high walls. __"And I'd walk. Smart, birdie."_

_Riana shook her head, before speaking with a confidence she didn't feel. __"No, you wouldn't." He had to be baiting her. Just one more of Vico's head games. Her heart beat wildly in her chest. But what if she was wrong? _

_White teeth flashed in the half light. __"What makes you say that?"_

_Riana __wiped her sweaty palms against the leather of her leggings, her hands clenching into tight fists afterwards. "No matter what else you are, Vico, you're loyal. To Nathan and the Family." Gods, let that be right. "You don't want to see them rotting in some Dhorn hell hole no more than I do."_

_The silence stretched on. "Maybe you're right," Vico finally said. "But I wouldn't get too comfortable." The smile he gave her chilled Riana to the core. "Unlike yours, my loyalty has its limits." His eyes locked on hers. "So does my patience." _

* * *

-

Riana sat on the bed, going through the weapons and supplies they'd bought from the dwarven merchant. One blade in particular had her attention – a knife. The balance was a work of art. She'd made a bargain there.

When Bran walked in, Norah in tow, she greeted him with a smile. The sight of his pale face and Norah's exited one made the smile dim and die.

"Chruz-Pa," Bran breathed. "We've found him."

And just like that, her world fell apart.

* * *

-

Author's note: I did some editing here (the flashback part, mostly. Feel free to reread it.


	3. Weight of words

Debts

Weight of words

* * *

-

Vico sat on one of the bunk beds, leaning against the wall with his hands folded behind his head, the coarse linens lying in a trampled heap on the floor – washed or not, the dwarven reek on the pillows made him want to retch. If he saw, or smelled, one more dwarf in his life, it would be one too many. From behind closed doors, raised voices drifted in, muffled and distorted. His teeth grinding, Vico sat up on the bed a little straighter, straining to make out the words, before he shifted on the bed, his legs dangling over the edge. When the voices dimmed, he got up, his knees popping, and kicked the linens across the room.

_Where's a dwarf's head when you need one?_ Though, right now he'd gladly settle for a pair of Chult balls, sliced off by a rusty dagger.

"What crawled up your rear end and died?" Seated cross-legged on the floor, Pia shrugged one sheet off her shoulder and continued wrapping the dried meet rations, before stuffing them in her pack.

Vico snapped at her. "Unless you want to put that mouth of yours to better use, I'd keep it closed, Pia darling."

Pia shot him a look and shook her head. "And to think that I once thought you charming. I must have been out of my mind." Her fingers deftly worked the leather wrappings. "Besides, I thought you'd be ecstatic that those two are arguing."

Vico barely heard her – he watched the doorway to his right, instead. The bitch had been in that room for the better part of an hour, now – with the Chult. Honeymoon over, or so it would seem. Oh, he would have been ecstatic about that, no doubt, if he hadn't overheard the ranger trying to talk his whore out of leaving. Something about the bugger that whipped out their clan being close by. They were quiet about it, but not quiet enough, and it figured birdie would try and do the same. He could just imagine what she was saying, the begging, pleading, bargaining… the thought made him want to go in there and shake her until she couldn't see straight. 'Course, there was always the possibility that they'd gotten past the talking part, and that birdie was on her knees right now, giving the bastard a good seeing to. That thought did something unpleasant to his gut, something he didn't want to dwell on. He focused on an image of the Chult bleeding out on the ground to suppress the rising rage.

Truth was, he'd expected birdie to up the stakes for some time now. Easy to figure that one out – she needed the help, and the Chult wanted in between her thighs. Promise him that, and the poor sod would follow her like a dog in heat, even if she led him by the balls to a Dhorn hell hole. It would be the smart thing to do, and as proud as the bitch was, Nathan was a sore point – she _would_ do anything to save the old man. She wouldn't be the fist – or even the hundredth – member of the Family that had to spread her legs to get the job done.

Thing was – and there lied the rub – birdie actually wanted that bastard. He'd seen the furtive glances, the soft touches, the whispered conversations. The way she smiled at that horse's ass… as if he was gods' gift.

_Fuck it!_

Vico spat on the ground, ignoring Pia's groan of disgust. If the bitch let the Chult inside her because she needed leverage, he could respect that – not that he'd let things go that far, either way – but the thought of her wanting it made him see red.

Suddenly, the door slammed open, and the Chult stormed out without so much as a glance his way. In the following silence, the bed springs in the next room cracked and groaned, making all sorts of images run through his mind, none of them pleasant. Vico ground his teeth and pushed away from the wall. Through the open door, he saw her, clothes on, still seated on the edge of the bed, a thoughtful expression on her face. _Well, at least I know they weren't fucking in there._ When their eyes met, she swallowed and leaned back on her elbows.

"You might as well come in," she sighed.

"Why would I?" She didn't look all that upset – which was a bit of a puzzle, considering the way the Chult ran out. She didn't look like she'd just have a man come inside her, either. Truth was, Vico was half tempted to follow the bastard out and make sure he didn't come back. "I'm not keen on your company right now, princess."

The smile that lifted the corner of her mouth almost looked genuine. "Please, I'm surprised you didn't have your ear pressed against the door."

_Stuck up, overconfident bitch_. "Don't flatter yourself. I don't care who you spread your legs for."

She nodded. "Wise of you." When she leaned back like that, her hair touched the sheets – it fell down almost to her shoulder blades, now.

Vico remembered how long it was, the first time he saw her, a thick wave that fell past her waist, gleaming in the midday sun. Matted with dirt and blood, but still soft in his hands later, in that storage room – something else he tried hard not to think about. "So, did you?" he asked.

Eyes narrowing, birdie fixed him with a look. "It figures that _you_ would mistake fighting for sex."

He couldn't resist. "I told you. It gets the blood pumping."

The fleeting look of disgust on her face didn't come as much of a surprise. "In any case, we have a problem."

Vico wouldn't call the Chults leaving a 'problem', exactly. More like a bloody miracle. "And what problem would that be, birdie?"

She got up and headed for the door, expecting him to follow her – no surprise there, he'd been doing little else from the moment they met. "The guards," she said, looking back at him over her shoulder. "Bran doesn't agree with our plan." Just a brief look, before she kept walking.

Vico frowned. What the hell did it matter now what the Chult thought?

"He's leaving if we go through with it."

The Chult was leaving anyway. By the nine hells, the bitch was lying to his face. Why?

She stopped and turned around. "As loath as I am to admit it, you were right about them." Her fingers moved an errand strand of hair away from her face. "We can't trust them."

That would have been sweet to hear - if she'd meant a word of it. Where was she going with this? "So, I can finally kill that Chult without you throwing a fit?" And he was going to do that no matter what she said.

That split second look of panic in her eyes told him all he needed to know. The bitch was lying to him. All he needed to do now was find out what she was playing at.

"No." Her voice sounded calm and in control. "I don't want to draw attention to us just yet. We have a guard to kidnap, remember?" She took a step towards him and placed a warm hand on his shoulder, her thumb brushing his skin. "That would go better if they're not too wary of us."

Now he knew she had to be conning him somehow. Vico stared down at her with a snear. "Since when do you touch me, birdie?"

Riana took her hand away and stepped back, but she didn't look him in the eye. "Since you're all that I've got."

True enough, but she was still lying her ass off about the Chult.

"I know where you sleep Vico," she said, already moving forward. "When the guards change shifts, I'll come find you."

A crude remark sat on the tip of his tongue - tradition and all - but the way she said that took him back, months ago.

Suddenly, Vico wasn't sure if her knowing where he sleeps was a good thing after all.

* * *

-

The stained desk wobbled to the left when a heavy hand swept the cards off the table, along with the glasses. Pieces of silver bounced off the wet floor once, before settling in the wine puddle. Annoyed, Vico straightened and shook his head.

"I always knew you weren't that smart, Pett. Now you owe me a new bottle." Vico waved the serving girl over. "And the coin you just lost."

"Nobody is that lucky, Vico." Pett's hands clutched the table. "Not four times in a row."

"Calling me a cheater, are you? Brave, kid." Vico shrugged. "Stupid, but brave."

"What if I am?" Pett's hands left the table to wrap around the back of a chair.

_I'll be damned_. The kid actually meant to start a fight with him. Vico smiled at the thought – fine with him. Nathan didn't want members of the Family killing each other, not with the Dhorn running loose, but nobody would throw a fit over a few broken bones and bruises.

"'Course, you could always give me back the coin, and I'd let the matter drop."

And the kid _was_ annoying – a flesh wound would do him good. Before Vico could set about doing just that, the sound of equipment being dropped on a table behind him distracted him.

"Good to see you again, girl. How did those scrolls I got for you work out?" That nasal whine could only belong to Dalino, the merchant.

After a brief silence, a voice answered. "Well enough."

Vico's heart sped up at the familiar tones, his hands clenching on the table. Riana. The sound of her name, even when said just in his head, did strange things to him. _Better stick to birdie, then_. Just another girl in the city of thousands. When he turned back, he saw her, leaning against the table where Dalino peddled his wares. That leather armor looked… good on her. Hell, better than good, if he went by the instant stirring he felt down bellow. But, birdie also looked… different, more confident somehow, harder than she had been the last time he saw her here, when she'd tried to knife him. Not that he blamed her – were he in her shoes, he'd likely try and do the same. And he had nothing to fear from her, anyway – it would be years before she had the skill to catch him unawares. He could let it slide.

Busy sorting through the things she'd dropped on the table, Dalino muttered, "Good, good. They told me that the holding spell is simple to pronounce, but that the silence one can be tricky if you don't have practice." The Family merchant stopped for a second and looked at her. "No problems, then?"

Her hands crossed over her chest – a pity that birdie didn't wear more revealing clothes. She didn't seem to be in the mood to talk either. "None." Her voice dropped, signaling the end of discussion.

Dalino didn't seem to take the hint. "You all right, now? You seemed banged up and out of sorts that time I saw you."

Vico straightened. Now that was interesting. Birdie had been doing odd jobs for the Family, he knew, even followed her around on occasion to make sure she didn't get in over her head, but he hadn't seen her get seriously hurt. Why he bothered, he didn't know himself.

With a scowl on her face, she leaned forward and said, "Look, are we going to do this, or am I going to have to tell you my life story first?"

Vico felt his lips stretch into a smile. That leather really did marvelous things to her ass.

Dalino held up his hands. "Fine. I'm just making conversation."

Riana sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Sorry, Dalino. I'm in a hurry. Doing a job for Alfons tonight."

The way the bulky peddler smiled at her apology almost made Vico laugh out loud. Dalino had five children past birdie's age. Fucking cradle robber. Where could Alfons be sending her?

Dalino nodded and winked at her. "We'll set you up, then."

The pair of them settled into silence, each going through what the other was bartering. Dalino grunted with satisfaction when he set aside a pearl necklace, two gold rings, and a diamond the size of a pigeon's egg. Vico whistled under his breath. Birdie was doing well for herself.

After Dalino gave her a sizable pouch of gold, she nodded and turned around to leave, only to stop in her tracks when she spotted him. Her pupils dilated, and her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Vico swallowed down a wave of want, vaguely disturbed. That split second of naked fear in her eyes shouldn't have turned him on so much. She shook it off soon enough, though. Back straight, without so much as a glance his way, she kept walking. But she'd have to pass his table before she left the room.

When she walked by him, he called out. "I never thought we'd make such an accomplished thief out of you, birdie."

She stiffened, but kept ignoring him.

He'd have to try harder, then. "I thought your god frowned on such things."

That got her attention – she stopped and looked at him, her hand tracing the tattoo on her throat. "How the hell would you know which god I worship?" Hell, that raw hatred in her eyes did something for him, too.

Leaning back in his chair, Vico eyed her up and down. "Facts of life, sweetling - servants yap about their masters." He let out a laugh and whispered, "A highborn lady, training to be a holy warrior. I always knew you were a bit off in the head." His fingers drummed against the table in time with the piss poor excuse for a bard picking his lute. "Not so high and mighty now, though, are you?"

Her hand drifted to her weapon's belt while he spoke. Vico raised an eyebrow – hadn't she learned her lesson, yet? Would the stupid girl let him bait her into attacking him again? He could try and see – it _was_ a slow night. He drawled, "You know, I like the thought of you rolling around in the gutter with me."

If he went by shudder that ran through her, she didn't share his view. "Piss off, Vico." Riana turned to leave, probably running off before the temptation to stick a knife in him became too strong to ignore.

_Stuck up bitch_. Vico wasn't ready for her to dismiss him just yet. "I have a job for you." _Let's see just how tough birdie thinks she is._

Her voice dripped venom, stronger than any of Jacia's poison batches. "I don't take orders from you."

Right. She'd stopped, hadn't she? "_Nathan_ has a job for you, then." Not likely. If this got around, the old man would have his balls. Vico leaned forward and pulled up a chair. "Have a seat, birdie."

The old man's name worked like a charm – Riana turned and looked at him again. "I'll stand." But she moved closer, tense and coiled like a spring.

Vico pulled the chair closer to his own. "Sit." If he made it a challenge, she wouldn't back out. "I don't want the whole world to hear about this."

Birdie didn't disappoint – shoulders thrown back, back straight, she walked up to him and sat in the chair, leaning back. "What's the job, then?"

Vico smirked - he should have tried to get her to sit on his lap. Whatever else the girl was, she wasn't a coward. "There is a renegade rogue running loose, overstepping his bounds." Birdie's brow furrowed, but she didn't interrupt him. When her lips parted like that, it made him think about things he really shouldn't be thinking about. "He's got a little gang of cutthroats gathered around him and now takes money from people for passing through 'his' territory north of the harbor."

Suddenly, her fair skin became sickly pale. Maybe she'd guessed where he was going with this.

"He's bribed a few Dhorn to look the other way, which in itself shows he's kind of talented, but we can't have him dragging our name through the mud. Or taking coin out of our pockets." Vico smirked at her and lowered his voice. "His name is Rick, and I want him dead."

"You son of a bitch," she said, drawing back.

The look she gave him would have been funny if it wasn't so damn predictable. Heavens forbid that daddy's little girl got her hands dirty. Why the hell did he bother? The whorehouses were full of whores like her before the Dhorn closed them down. "Scared you couldn't handle it, birdie?"

The anger slowly bled out of her face, leaving it pale and drawn. "Is this supposed to be a joke?" she asked, her voice catching on the last word. Hate seeped back into her dark eyes. "Who told you?"

What the hell was she on about now? "I never joke about Family business." Vico frowned. "Who told me what?"

Her eyes narrowed as she studied his face – which was strange in itself since she avoided looking at him whenever she could. What was she looking for?

Her eyelids fluttered once, and something that looked like shame flickered across her face, before her expression settled into a stony mask. "I'm leaving," she said, getting up.

He was missing something, he was sure of it. What the hell was it? "Look, birdie, if you don't want the job, just say so. I'll get someone else on it." Vico gave her his best sneer. "I wouldn't want you to break a nail or something."

Riana looked down on him. "Do your own killing, Vico." The ice in her eyes could have frozen a man solid. "I'll do mine."

Vico watched Riana leave until the door slammed shut behind her, then downed the ale in his mug. Eyes closed, he leaned back in his chair and swore under his breath. He'd need an easy lay tonight. For some reason, that threat had left him hard enough to cut glass.

Tomorrow, he'd ask around about Rick Cars.

* * *

-

Rick Cars was dead. In fact, he had been three feet under before he'd even asked birdie to do the deed. Nathan wanted to know whose hands snuffed the life out of that two bit crook, so the old man could shower the git in gold, and Vico had to admit the whole thing had him curious as well. In the end, it took Vico two days to find someone from Rick's crew, but there he was, in one of the seedier taverns in the city, staring at a pimple faced kid who just about pissed his pants when he sat next to him. Then Vico stuck a knife into the table, next to the ale mug, just for the hell of it, and the kid probably did piss himself.

"I've been looking for you."

"V…Vico." The pimpled face got three shades paler. "Why me? I'm just the cobbler's bastard. I'm no one."

So, the kid knew who he was. Good. That would make things go faster. "I don't care who your mother fucked eighteen odd years ago." The knife wobbled right to left on the table. "Word on the street is, Rick got offed." He gave pimple-boy his most chilling smile. "Not that we're complaining, but we'd like to know who did the deed."

The kid frowned and worked his jaw, like he was mulling over what to say. "But, you…" After clearing his throat, he said, "Master Nathan had Rick killed. We all know that."

Vico shook his head and pulled the knife out of the table. "What you lot know wouldn't fill a used chamber pot." His hand tightened on the hilt. "It put a smile on Nathan's face to hear about it, sure, but somebody beat us to it." The kid's beady eyes followed the blade, like those of a frightened rat. "Nathan wants to know who to thank for his good mood."

"If it wasn't you… Rick made a lot of enemies. It could have been anyone." The cobbler's bastard had his hands in front of his face, as if afraid Vico would cut him. Stupid of him – like that would help. And nobody in here would complain.

Except about the blood stains. Those were a bitch to get out.

"I'm not known for my patience, kid." Vico pressed the knife against his throat. "I'd start talking if I were you. Fast." The bartender spared them a glance, before he spat in the mug he was cleaning and wiped it vigorously with a dirty cloth. Nobody else even looked at them.

"I didn't see anything, I swear!" The kid stood as still as a statue, hardly breathing, beads of sweat forming on his forehead_. Cowardly piece of shit._

"Struck blind?" Vico angled the blade higher. "Want me to make it permanent?"

"All I know is, we found Rick in the morning, still in his bed, blood all over the sheets. Dead."

Vico laughed – that was too much. It put him in such a good mood that he even pulled the knife away. "So someone just strolled in and killed him while all of you slept like overworked whores in the next room?" He had to laugh again. Hell, now _he_ wanted to shower the git in gold.

The kid looked down. "Yeah… Thing is, we should have heard something."

Vico snorted. "My grandmother could likely sneak her way past you lot." If he had one, that is.

"You don't understand." The kid swallowed and cleared his throat. "Whoever it was, he hacked Rick's dick off."

Vico whistled. Someone wanted to make a statement. "So what?" He shrugged. "Dead men don't scream."

The kid looked him in the eye for the first time. "That's just it. That was the only wound Rick had on him. I checked. He cut him and let him bleed to death."

Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy. Something didn't add up, though. "Was he gagged? Tied up?" He had to be. "Or are you deaf as well as blind?"

Pimple-face shook his head. "We didn't find any rope. And there wasn't a mark on Rick."

So, he had nothing to go on. Nathan wouldn't be pleased. "In other words, you're useless to me." Vico raised the knife again. The panic on the kid's face almost made the whole conversation bearable.

"No, no! I'm a pretty good pickpocket" He shrunk back in the chair. "I could work for Nathan again."

"Right. He'd love to have a sniveling wretch like you."

The kid kept running his mouth. "I never liked the way Rick did things anyway. He could be a right evil bastard." His hands shook on the table – the little runt actually thought he was going to off him. Which would have been a good idea, except for the fact that Nathan needed every man he could get his hands on. The Dhorn were a right menace to doing business. The Dhorn were a menace, period.

And pimple face still kept on talking. "Like a week ago. He stopped a girl that passed through our alley. Really lost it when she didn't have any money on her."

Vico only half listened. Nathan would want him to keep at this, talk to other members of Rick's little gang. Maybe he could saddle Cata with it – the bitch could always fuck them for information.

"Like anyone has coin to spare these days. He didn't need to rape the poor girl."

Did this kid ever shut up?

"Took two of us to hold her down. She had this tattoo on her throat. Rick told her he'd slice it off if she bit him again."

Vico stopped breathing. The knife flashed before it went through the kid's hand and through the table under it. The little bastard screamed, but that was just background noise Vico could barely hear over the rushing of his blood. The rest of the tavern fell silent. "The girl," Vico growled in his ear. "What did she look like?"

More screaming. Vico backhanded him across the face, his other hand holding the knife in, then twisting it.

"Vico," the bartender shouted. "There's a Dhorn patrol outside. The kid ain't worth it."

Vico didn't bother even looking at him. "If you don't want some of the same, Sal, you'll keep pouring that pig swill you call ale and keep your fucking opinions to yourself." Then he pressed the knife down.

Another scream and the cobbler's bastard wheezed for breath. "Sweet, merciful goddess." All the color had drained out of his face.

Vico didn't feel all that merciful. "You can shove your prayers up your ass for all the good they'll do you." He kept seeing Rick pushing his way in between Riana's thighs. "Start talking."

The wheezing got louder. "Tall. Dark hair… shorter, past her neck. Dark eyes. Pretty." Blood welled up from beneath his hand and spilled over the edge of the table. "A scale tattooed on her throat."

Vico shook his head, swallowing down his rising rage. That was birdie, alright. Wandering the harbor at night. How fucking stupid could you get?

"I didn't do anything to her."

Tears ran down the bastard's cheeks. Had Riana cried? That thought did something to his gut – before Vico shook it off. She was just as likely to spit in Rick's face.

The cobbler's bastard kept talking. "I only held her down."

That picture crept back into his head. Too bad Rick was already dead. "Just that?"

"Yes!" His voice choked on a sob. "I kept telling her not to fight back."

The only way that girl would have laid back and took it would be if they knocked her unconscious. Vico knew that, first hand. "That would have been the smart thing to do." She probably kneed Rick in the groin, too. "Birdie never was all that smart." That defiance of hers would get her killed some day. And that reckless stupidity – it would do her good if somebody beat that out of her.

The boy's lips shook as she spoke, "I swear, we didn't know she was a friend of yours."

_A friend_. Riana would have a few choice words to say about that. Vico didn't like it much either – he didn't need or care to be a friend to that little bitch. But that didn't explain the sense of ownership and almost responsibility he felt when he looked at her, which was an annoyance to say the least.

The thought of someone – someone else – doing that to her again… It made him want to kill. Besides, Nathan would want the pricks who did this to Riana dead. Sentimental old sod – birdie probably reminded him of his daughter or something. Or he just liked her ass.

"I only held her down, I swear," the cobbler's bastard repeated, and the images started clogging Vico's mind again. Damn, he wished that Rick was still alive.

Vico pulled the knife free, and watched the blood well up. "You get to die quick, then." It was only fair. The gurgling sound the kid made when the blade cut his throat was somehow less than satisfying.

When he looked up, he saw that the area around him had been left strangely empty – people had either left the tavern or huddled together near the walls. Probably scared shitless that the Dhorn would bust through the door at any moment.

Sal swallowed, his usually red cheeks looking a great deal paler. "The Dhorn will make me pay up through the nose for this." He leaned against the bar, his head in his hands. "If they don't kill me outright, no questions asked. You couldn't have waited till nightfall? Vico, what the hell am I supposed to do with the corpse?"

Like he cared, one way or the other. Sal was pretty useless to the Family to begin with. "Slice his dick off, put him in a dress, and tell them you killed a whore." That actually might work. "The Dhorn burn whores." Vico took a deep breath and shook his head. Nathan didn't like leaving his people high and dry, useless as they may be. "I'll take care of the corpse," he said, against his better judgment. "Just make sure you mop up the blood."

After dumping the body in the sewers where the rats would make short work of it, Vico started towards the Bear Pit – the old man needed to know about this, and Riana, too – only to stop dead in his tracks.

_Fuck me sideways._

He couldn't believe it took him this long to piece it together. Those silence and holding spells birdie got her hands on, her reaction two days ago… _I do my own killing, _she'd said. Vico almost doubled over with sudden laughter that bubbled up and bounced off the narrow walls.

In a way, it was funny as hell, him asking her to kill the man she'd already offed. At the same time, it was bellow the belt, even for him. No wonder she'd thought he was being a jackass.

So, Riana had the last say after all – good for her. Vico couldn't deny being a bit impressed by all of it. Rick had years under his belt and was built like a brick wall, and birdie had killed him in his own bed. Slowly, while his men slept around him, and no one had been the wiser. Vico whistled and shook his head. He'd have to change his mind about her.

She _was_ a threat.

Good thing she didn't know where he sleeps, after all.

* * *

**-**

**Author's note**: The next chapter will be in two POV-s. I hope that I got Vico right. Feedback and concrit are more than welcome.


	4. Memory

_Debts_

_Memory_

* * *

"Tell me that you understand."

What could she say to that? Blinking back the soft mist that clouded her sight – exhaustion, because she wouldn't let it be tears – Riana looked down to a pair of white hands resting on her knees, encased in leather. Hard, callused hands, used to the weight of a sword in their grip and to the numbing notch and loose of an arrow – they shook now, like frail leaves caught in the fall wind. Those couldn't be her hands, she wouldn't let them be, and her eyes had no more tears to spill.

When the words came at last, hands stilled, and Riana looked up with dry eyes. "I understand that you are abandoning me."

Pain flashed across Bran's face, the sight of it making her at once hopeful and vindictive. "The man that killed my mother and father and all of my kin is here, a week's march away." Bran's soft voice echoed like a war horn in her head. "Fifteen years, I searched for him. How can I turn away now?"

And how could she ask that of him? _Selfish_. If she'd had any honor in her, she'd whish him luck and send him on his way. She would have, once – fool that she was – but all Riana could think of now was the hell pit that sprawled before her. "Once Nathan is safe, I will help you find him." Right. Push had come to shove, and honor counted for little when it was her ass out on the line. Jacia would have been _so_ proud. Ashamed too, of how transparent the lie was.

Bran shook his head. "He will be long gone."

Riana swallowed and looked away, wishing she could cover her ears instead. And how cowardly would that look?

"Chruz Pa knows we are hunting for him. He will not stay in one place too long." The silence stretched on. "If Norah and I don't leave now, we may never find him again."

How had it all spun out of control so fast? What else could she try? She'd screamed at him, begged and coerced already, offering fortunes with one breath and threats in the next.

He already had one foot out the door.

"Please…" Did her voice really sound so hoarse and broken? "Don't make me…" _Do what? _She couldn't finish that sentence, wouldn't, even in her head.

Bran looked down at her, his eyes dark and sad. "Riana." His hand sneaked down to brush her cheek, and instead of turning away, she leaned into the touch, pride forgotten. "I don't want to leave. You _know_ that."

That made her turn away. "Like hell I do." There – that sounded a bit more like her and not like that broken, begging thing from a moment ago. "Stay." _And down we go again_. At least her voice didn't quiver this time.

When a second hand cupped her other cheek and pulled her chin up, Riana closed her eyes, praying for the stinging wetness she felt behind her eyelids not to spill over_. A small mercy to ask for, my ever silent Lord. Give me that at least._ _  
_

"If the men who murdered your family were here, would you let them go?"

The answer came with the tightening of her gut and a twitch in her cheek. _If I knew who the bastards were, I would hunt down and kill every last one._

But would she cut the old man loose to do that?

_Yes_, a part of her whispered, the part her father would have been ashamed of, no doubt. _Debts to the living outweigh the debts to the dead_, he would have told her. Of course, he would have also told her that throwing her life away to save an aging thief and the rest of his cutpurse friends was insane. But then, her father would have thought her life worth something to begin with.

_Would he even recognize me, now_? Riana glanced down to the sword strapped to her belt, the dirt streaked hand that tightened around the handle of her bow. When she sat up straighter on the bed, pushing her growing hair – scandalously short, her mother would have said – out of her eyes, her leather armor creaked. _Yes_, _probably_. The important changes were all on the inside.

The question was moot, anyway. Her family's blood could have stained any one of the hundreds of soldiers that stormed the keep that night. She had no way of knowing which one. Baring somehow stumbling into the Emperor himself, she would have to settle on killing every Dhorn she could find and hoping sheer quantity would do the trick. But she couldn't very well tell Bran that.

_You're a bloodthirsty bitch_, Vico's voice rang out in her head. _I like that_.

"The living don't have the luxury of time," Riana said, giving her head a shake to clear it. "Wasn't it you that said that?" She willed her eyes to focus. "I can take my vengeance a day from now, in a year, or ten, and my parents will still be just as dead." His hands kept cupping her cheeks, fingers softly stroking her skin, but she ignored the warmth of it. "Nathan doesn't have a year."

_He may not even have a day._ He could have been dead already, for all she knew.

Bran kept his eyes on hers, and one of his hands touched her hair, catching a loose strand between his fingers. "I have kept the dead waiting for far too long already." In his voice, Riana heard regret, but also a hint of uncertainty. "If I stay, will they wait forever?" When the fingers of his other hand traced her lips, she allowed it, too numb to even flinch. "And curse me for it?"

_Let them_. As long as he stayed, the dead could curse and moan all they liked, for all she cared. "I can't answer that." Riana's voice came out hoarse and weak, but her lips moved against his fingers, sending a jolt of heat through her, despite everything – as close to a real kiss as she'd ever gotten.

_Too bad the rest of you didn't get to stay half so chaste_.

Angry again, Riana bit her lip and said, "I suppose you'll feel better with just my ghost cursing you instead." The sheer venom in that sentence took even her by surprise.

Warm fingers withdrew and clenched into fists by his sides. Bran turned his head, not looking at her, his whole body tense. "No," he whispered. "Never that." He shifted away from her, no farther than the length of the palm of her hand, but the distance felt like miles between them.

And they soon would be.

Riana could have just kicked herself – a hell of a time to push him away. The silence stretched on, long and uncomfortable, before he took another step back. _He's leaving_. _Damn him_! How could she have grown so dependent on him, so fast? Wasn't just him, though. If Bran left now, his sister in tow, would Anden follow Norah or stay with her? That line of thought led to a swallowed scream that threatened to claw its way out of her throat, quickly suppressed.

_All my shields gone_. To think she'd encouraged Anden to get close to the woman. _Brilliant plan, that_.

Riana kept her eyes on the floor, focused on the long crack in the stone, winding between the wall and the bed. If she'd look up now, she'd see regret and a thousand whispered apologies, before Bran walked out on her. _Sod that_. He could keep his useless pity. What good would it do her?

_Fuck regret_.

Her hand reached out, of its own accord, and the touch, leather against skin, stopped him in his tracks. She'd never touched him before. She'd allowed him to touch _her, _yes – a brush of his hand against her shoulder, her cheek, the brief clasp of his hand in hers. Simple, innocent gestures – more than she'd allowed anyone willingly, but she'd never touched him first. Not like this.

_What's the matter, princess? You do __know how to uncross those legs, don't you?_ _Or does it take a pry bar to get those stiff knees of yours to open_?

Caught between burning anger and icy desperation, her stomach clenched, then dropped to her heals. She'd done this once before, hadn't she? No reason to think she couldn't do it again.

After tracing a slow path down Bran's arm, Riana wrapped her fingers around his, pulling him back. "Don't go like this," she said, her voice a calculated soft lilt, her grasping fingers numb. "Not if this will be the last memory I have of you." His hand should have been warm in hers, she knew – but she didn't feel anything but cold.

Bran's other hand returned to her hair. "Riana…" The distance between them melted to inches, but she couldn't – wouldn't – look up to meet his eyes. He'd see everything there, he'd know. "Don't make this harder than it already is," he whispered, but his fingers crept further into her hair.

The scent of him, leather and musk, the heat of his body next to hers – it all made her want to jump out of her skin. She would have welcomed it, before, she was sure of it, but all Riana felt now was nauseous. _Get a grip_. She'd opened her legs for a Dhorn once, for information. Why did this feel so much worse, then?

Hell, would it even work? Once he'd had his fill of her, would he leave anyway? Riana had no illusions left about what men wanted, or about what she could offer, not after everything, but something in her gut told her that Bran _was_ different. A good man, an honorable one_ –_ a good man that she was about to try and cheat out of his vengeance.

_Get a grip_. If he'd trade a blood debt for a quick fuck, he couldn't be all that honorable, now could he? You couldn't steal someone's honor – they had to give it away first.

Besides, what choice did she have?

Y_ou could always spread your legs for me, birdie_. _Bound to happen, soon enough_.

Riana buried that thought deep, recoiling against it, just as Bran's hand drifted to her shoulder, down her arm, to settle lightly on her waist. "I never meant to hurt you," he said, his other hand tightening around hers.

The answer came out in a sharp laugh, "You would be the first," before she made the mistake of looking up. Bran's eyes held hers, compassionate and soft in a way that made her own tear up. Riana swallowed, the sudden lump in her throat making it hard to breathe. "I'm fine with pain." She didn't even have to fake the quiver in her voice.

Bran shook his head, inching closer. "You shouldn't have to be." His thumb brushed her cheekbone, wiping at the wetness there. Shame burned in her, hot and sharp – how sick was it that she couldn't even tell if her tears were real, or part of the act.

"You deserve more," he whispered, leaning his forehead against hers. "To be safe, loved and happy. To have someone to stand between you and all the evils of the world." His lips brushed her cheek. "I wish I that could be that someone for you."

Riana felt her blood boil, and bit her lip to keep from screaming out. _If whishes were horses, beggars would ride_. "Well, that makes me feel _so_ much better." The words rushed out honest and angry, ground out between clenched teeth. "I'll be sure to remember that when Vico leaves me for dead in the gutter." She regretted saying it out loud the moment her mouth closed.

Bran pulled away from her, suddenly pale. After a drawn out silence, he swallowed, not meeting her eyes, and said, "I thought about killing him." His hand reached for her again. "Say the word, and I will."

A small part of her was tempted to say yes. The rest of her just laughed – a hollow, empty sound that had nothing to do with amusement or joy. "Oh, that's just…" One more dead sound that sounded like laughter escaped her, and Riana wheezed for breath. "Just about the funniest thing I've ever heard." It wasn't, so why was she laughing like this? "And what do you suppose I'll do then?" Laughter dried up, replaced by clenched teeth and nails biting into her palms. "Take up knitting while the Dhorn tear my friends apart, piece by piece?"

Bran reached for her again. "You don't need him."

"Yes. I do." Riana made sure the words had a ring of finality to them. _Why not? It's the truth_. "I don't have anyone else." No one else that had what it would take to get to the old man.

The grip Bran had on her forearms tightened till she was sure it would bruise. "I know what he did to you, Riana." The urgent whisper carried its own sort of pain. "I can't… How can I leave you alone with him?"

The thought of him knowing that would have shamed her, once, but she was long past shame, now. "So don't!" Riana's voice broke again. "Stay." Her throat tightened, but she managed to choke the words out. "If you leave me now, I don't know what will happen." She didn't even want to think about it. Truth was, she had no idea what Vico would do, and that scared the shit out of her.

"I _need_ you," she whispered. There, an honest to god truth. "It's too much to ask for, I know that." That didn't stop her from asking it anyway.

The iron grip loosed a fraction. "Norah won't…"

Before he could say no, Riana cut him off with a soft touch of her lips against his and just stood there, eyes closed, not daring to move. _My first kiss_, _and it's a bribe. _A moment passed that stretched into a decade, before Bran drew in a shuddering breath… and kissed her back, light and careful, growing more demanding when she returned the pressure on instinct. He groaned into her mouth, fingers tightening around her arms, and pulled her close.

_A quick fuck it is_. She couldn't blame him – she'd offered it after all.

Something in her froze, lost and bone deep weary, but Bran mouth was hot on hers, desperate and hard, so she clung to him and allowed her lips to part when his tongue sneaked into her mouth. It should have been heady, sweet and wonderful, all of the things that first kisses were supposed to be, but still, all she felt was cold.

This isn't how she'd wanted it, not with him, and, merciful Tyr, the thought was almost enough to make her cry. He kissed her again, and she could taste the phantom tears on his tongue, along with his passion. Not like this – not with this wonderful, sweet man, who she has real feelings for. Not as… a payment or a bribe. Not out of this clawing desperation.

Gentle fingers cupped her cheek, and Riana felt wetness against her skin when Bran drew her lower lip into his mouth – tears, real ones this time. When she pulled back, his hands followed her, cupping the back of her neck and drawing her back in. "Come with me," he breathed into her mouth between heated kisses, making her hands clench against the sudden temptation. "We'll find Chruz Pa together, and then we'll free your friends." His hands drifted down to the small of her back and pulled her flush against him, the warmth of him there seeping into her skin. "Come with me."

She allowed herself to imagine it for a moment, going away with him, allowed herself to imagine that Nathan had all the time in the world. What were a few more weeks? Bran kissed a spot just bellow he ear, and she tried to imagine letting go for once, letting someone else make the hard choices, so that she wouldn't have to. She tried to imagine not having to sleep with one eye open. Riana smiled against his lips and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. Such a lovely fantasy. For a moment, she was tempted – more than that, she wanted it so much it hurt.

_You can__'t steal someone's honor – they have to give it away first_.

It sunk in, then – they both tried to tempt the other, but neither would give an inch, and weeks might as well be years. In reality, she'd find Nathan already dead, if she'd found him at all It would never work – not for him, and not for her. And nothing that she could do or say would make him stay – it was a strangely freeing thought.

Riana kissed him, then, without pretence or a hidden agenda – just to feel his skin against hers, his soft breath on her lips, his tongue in her mouth. For no other reason than because she wanted to, and for the first time since the night her life crumbled, she _felt_. And, oh, it was wonderful.

_So, this is what all the fuss is about_.

Bran's arms tightened around her, while his mouth trailed a wet, warm path from her jaw down to her neck, whispering soft, muffled words into her skin. Perfect. If only it didn't have to end.

"Come with me," he whispered again, his breath hot against her ear.

The fantasy crumbled. "You know I can't." Riana pulled back, feeling a cold seep into every inch of her skin that separated from his. "Nathan needs me."

Bran leaned his forehead against hers. "If he's half the man you made him out to be, he wouldn't want you to throw your life away like this," he said, a tremor in his voice.

Showed what he knew – if Nathan could be called anything, it would be a pragmatic. But, still… "I don't know what he would want," she answered honestly. "This isn't about that." She allowed her fingers to trace Bran's jaw. "It's about what he deserves, and what I owe. And I owe him more than just my life." That debt kept pilling up with every Dhorn she'd killed and every one that she had yet to kill. She owed him her vengeance – and that meant everything. Besides, what else did she have to live for?

Bran's hands tightened around her waist, the pressure of him hard against her made her throat dry and heat coil low in her belly. _This – I could live for this_. She buried that thought deep before it could rise to tempt her again.

Moments stretched into long minutes of silence, and then Bran pulled away to sit on the edge of the bed. Riana allowed him his distance, all too aware of how close she was to breaking down in angry tears.

"I need to think." Bran finally said, his head in his hands. "Norah. I need to talk to her."

Hope was a fickle bitch. "Go," she managed to say, her throat closing. "I have things to take care of." _Vico_. He couldn't know about this – it would give him an edge, an advantage over her. Better for him to think she cut Bran loose. The rest – she couldn't think about it now. "Don't tell the others about this."

With a stiff nod, Bran got up, and walked towards the door.

_I'll never see him again_. The abrupt thought made her throat dry and her stomach drop to her heals. "Before you go…" Bran tried to speak, but she cut him off. What could she say? _Go to hell? Please come back? _The answer came with a flash of memory – callused, strong hands on hers, guiding her through a defensive arc, the sword those hands had made for her slicing through the air, sure in their combined grip. The one sweet memory she had, not soured by blood and tears, and suddenly, despite it all, she wanted to share it with him. "My old mentor, a knight that traveled with my grandmother in her youth, taught me a blessing for a parting of ways between friends." _Sir Perth_. Behind her eyelids, Riana could still see the lines on his weathered face, the grey stubble that covered his jaw and the way his hands never stilled. "His Order called him away a year before it all went to hell." She'd been devastated then, as much as she was grateful for it, now.

"He still lives, then?"

Riana nodded. "As far as I know." He'd better be. "The blessing, he called it a gift of words." _Words have power when the faithful say them out loud_, he'd said. _Tyr listens, child_.

Riana remembered ser Perth's hands cupping her face, the simple warmth of his pride in her, the regret in his eyes on the day he left. Biting the inside of her cheek, she looked up to meet Bran's eyes and spoke. "May your days be long and your burden light. May you be true and just in your actions, always. In all you do, may the truth be revealed to you, and sin hold no sway over you, or any you hold dear. When need calls for it, may you deliver vengeance to the guilty for those who cannot do it themselves. May you never betray your trust." Her voice caught on the last word, just as ser Perth's had. "Mercy and justice follow you for all the days of your life." _Till our paths cross again. _

The feeling of _presence_ that she'd had when Ser Perth had said his goodbyes was now gone, but Riana found that she still meant every word.

Bran gave her a long look, swallowing hard. "Those are good words. Strong words." He looked like he was about to step back towards her, but he held himself still. "Thank you."

Riana nodded, not trusting herself to say anything, and sat on the bed.

"I don't yet know what I will do." And there was that fickle hope again. "But I'll not leave without saying goodbye." He reached towards the door. "You have my word on that."

She kept her eyes on Bran's retreating back, willing herself not to see the other man standing there in the open doorway. _Ignoring the devil never works_. So, she forced herself to look, and flinched at what she saw. Vico took a step towards her, tense, his whole body practically humming with nervous energy._ Devils smell fear_. And lies.

When their eyes met, Riana swallowed and leaned back on her elbows.

"You might as well come in," she sighed, willing the numbness to return. She'd need it in spades.

_If__ only you had let me forget_.

* * *

~ _Betancuria, three weeks before_ ~

* * *

Touching the sword _hurt_. Riana could still see traces of divine energy that surged through the steel and flowed around her skin, something once comforting now painful. She could feel the sword recoiling from her – the same blade that had once been like an extension of her hand.

Her skin sizzled, burning, and she counted to five, taking a deep breath before she touched the sword again. Maybe the tenth time would be the charm. Maybe her lord would stop rejecting her if she hurt herself enough. Penance, right? If she'd repent, maybe this hollow feeling of no one being _there_ when she prayed would go away, and she'd feel Tyr's presence just as she'd had in her family's chapel so long ago.

The sword burned her just as much on the tenth time as it had on the first.

_Bugger_.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Vico's voice got through the fog in her head. Riana frowned and looked at the smoke that rose from where her hand was touching the sword. "I don't know," she said and moved her hand away, palm up. It was covered in burns, skin pealed away, and the air stank with the smell of burning flesh. It hurt just to look at it.

Penance, right?

"Insane bitch," Vico cursed and reached for the sword in front of her, only to hiss and jerk away when his skin sizzled at the contact as well. "Fuck!" He glared daggers at her and kicked it away. "What did you do, dip it in acid?"

It took all of her self control not to break down laughing. The corners of her mouth twitched with something that was too dark to be amusement and too resigned for it to be grief.

Vico glanced at the sword again through narrowed eyes, then at her mangled hand, frowning. "You think this is funny?"

Any trace of laugher bled out of her. "'Course it is," she answered quietly. "A higher power just judged the both of us, and found us both equally wanting." Perhaps there was a lesson in humility in there somewhere. If there was, she didn't appreciate it.

"What are you on about, birdie?"

The last thing she wanted was to explain any of that to him. "I guess I should thank you," she said instead.

"Is that right?" He leaned on the wall opposite of her. "And what does stopping you from losing the use of your hand get me?" A leer appeared on his face. "I'd say a hand job at least, but..." He gestured to her burned palm and shrugged. "How good are you with your left hand?"

Too numb to even try and get angry, Riana shook her head. "Not for that." With her uninjured hand, she pointed to the room behind him. "For what happened in there."

Vico shrugged again. "That?" He glanced back at the room, and Riana imagined the bodies there – people she knew, some that she even trusted. "A blowjob would do the trick," he drawled.

Through the haze, hate crept back in, but she deliberately ignored it. "If you were anybody else, I'd say that I owe you."

"Oh, you owe me." His arms crossed over his chest. "Ten times over by now."

Like hell she did. "We'll agree to disagree." How drained was she, when she couldn't even muster up the energy to tell him to go to hell?

Riana looked up to see him staring down at her, an unreadable expression on his face. "This is the third time I've pulled your ass out of the fire," he said, looking thoughtful.

Third time? Riana frowned, trying to piece it together. A flash of memory later, and she had her answer. "The Arena, I remember." It seemed like years had passed since then, instead of scarce months. One of the gladiators would have gutted her – stupid, to let him get so close – if Vico hadn't stepped in. "I also remember putting an arrow through the throat of the bastard that had you kneeling in dirt after that." An ox of a man, that one. Not that she had been trying to save Vico – hell, she hadn't even seen him through the red haze in her head, every cell in her body wanting the bastard that had sold Charon out to the Dhorn _dead_, _dead_, _dead_.

But Vico didn't need to know that. "I don't owe you anything," she said. If that wasn't entirely true anymore, he didn't need to know that either. "So if you're thinking about collecting, think again."

He smirked at her, looking all too sure of himself, now. "Bull. I had your back in there. Without me, Cata would have turned you over to the Dhorn."

True enough. Anden, Pia, and Alfons would have stood by her, no matter what, but the others had been running scared, Riana had no illusions about that. A promise of coin in hand and a free pass out of the city would have trumped loyalty any day of the week.

_No_. That wasn't fair. The people in there had every right to be scared shitless – they still had families and friends that needed protecting, things to live for. What was she to them? No, Riana didn't blame them, just like she didn't blame herself for fighting back. The sad thing was, they were _wrong_. The Dhorn would have killed them anyway. Oh, maybe not right away, not while there were other members of the Family out there, in hiding, but soon enough, they'd be just as dead. The Dhorn didn't give second chances to criminals.

Shaking her head, Riana traced the burn on her palm. "Cata thought she could trust them." Or had hoped for it, at least. How desperate had the woman been to even consider taking that kind of chance?

Vico shrugged, sounding bored. "I always said that she was a stupid bitch."

"It could have worked." Riana thought about it. "If she'd been willing to sell out everyone else." Benthur would have _loved_ that. "The rest of them would have wound up on the rack within a fortnight." Course, Cata would have to run too – Benthur seemed the type to turn on his informants sooner or later. "It could have bought her a head start."

"Doesn't make her any less of a bitch." That casual shrug again, the disinterest in his voice. "Just makes the lot of them gullible idiots."

Like he couldn't care less.

Riana looked at him through narrowed, appraising eyes. "They were your friends. More so than mine." That fact just sank in, somehow. "Doesn't it…" _Hurt?_ "…bother you?" Because it hurt her, for all she told herself, of course it did. She'd known them, worked with them, even Cata, ice cold bitch that she was.

_T__hat she had been. Dead now._

"It's over and done with," Vico said, leaning his head back. The wall had a long crack in it, just next to his head, she noticed – made for tempting target practice. "A fat lot of good it does to be bothered by it _now_."

That would have made a strange kind of sense, actually - if she were made of stone. "It's called regret, Vico." She rubbed the back of her neck with her uninjured hand. "Human beings indulge in it occasionally."

"It's called being soft in the head." The torch light flickered across his face, making him seem younger than he actually was. But he'd said it too fast, looking away. "You done indulging in your little pity fest?"

So, it did bother him. Riana couldn't decide if him being human after all made her glad or not, so she kept talking instead. "If it wasn't for Nathan, taking me to Benthur wouldn't have been a half bad idea."

Vico let out a sudden breath, angry eyes back on her. "Got a death wish, I see." The words dripped with contempt. "Figures. Though you could have told me that before Delino bled to death all over my boots." The sudden venom surprised her a little. He _was_ rattled by this worse than he'd let on.

Riana closed her eyes and took a deep breath – she'd always liked that merchant, leering sod that he was. _Had been_. "Not what I meant," she whispered.

He gave no sign that he'd heard her. "Are you really that eager to die strapped to a Dhorn rack?" Vico 's hands clenched into fists by his sides. "Give me the word, princess, and I'll drop you on their doorstep myself. Or is this about some fucked up notion of self sacrifice?"

Riana shook her head. "He wouldn't have killed me." Her voice came out louder this time.

A snort answered her. "Right."

_Oh_, _ye of little faith_. He wouldn't have, not right away. It was much, much worse than that.

"Not everybody wants to get into your knickers, birdie." Vico said, not looking at her.

In a way, that came closer to the truth than she'd like. Riana decided to be straightforward for once. "He can hardy marry a dead woman." _Blunt enough for you?_

Confusion knitted itself across his face. "Come again?"

_Guess not_. Riana sighed. "I'm still my father's daughter, Vico." She let that sink in – and by the slight widening of his eyes, it had. "Benthur has ambition, I'll give him that." Nothing a knife in the gut wouldn't fix, though. "I'm not sure I want to imagine the things he's had to do to be allowed to climb up so far." Dhorn generals didn't usually wind up as token kings of conquered countries. The nobility wouldn't allow it – the warrior cast was bread for war, not governance.

Vico gave her a doubtful look. "How can you know that?"

Riana had to laugh, though it came out more bitter than amused. "I have my sources." Talk about missed opportunities. The Emperor's son, within arm's reach, and she'd let him slip through her fingers without as much as a scratch on him. And to think she'd actually thought him tolerable for a Dhorn noble. Her father had to be turning in his grave – or would have been, if the Dhorn hadn't dumped his headless body in the gutter and left it there to rot.

_Next time, Simon_.

Vico stared at her in silence, appraising, for a long time before he spoke. "I can't see you living a long, happy life as a Dhorn trophy wife."

Oh, her life would have hardly been _long_. Benthur would have killed her eventually, after the claim passed to him by marriage, just not before he made sure he had a whelp by her to smooth over squabbles about succession rights. Then he'd arrange an accident for her, or a sudden wasting disease. The corners of her mouth quirked upwards – not that she'd had any intention of letting it come to that.

The sudden sound of laughter made Riana look up, to see Vico hitting his open palm against his thigh, his head thrown back. Between barks of laughter he asked, "Tell me, how much were you looking forward to gutting your husband on your wedding night?" The corners of his eyes crinkled from the wide grin he wore.

It figured he would guess what she was thinking. For the first time ever, Riana gave him a grim, tight smile back. "You have _no_ idea." It had been a happy thought, after all. Vico laughed again, a sound of honest amusement – another first.

"I'd considered it, when I first found out, and again, when Cata talked about turning me over." Riana shook her head, leaning back. "A shame it would take up too much time." Time that Nathan didn't have.

There was that appraising look again. "You're a bloodthirsty bitch." A nod her way followed. "I like that."

The burn on her palm throbbed once, reminding her of everything that was wrong with that statement. "I don't really care what you like," Riana said, her hackles rising again.

"Careful." Vico had his hands up in mock surrender. "You're stuck with me, remember?"

As if she could forget that. And as much as she wanted to kill Alfons for it, she could see the man had little choice – only a fool would waste the best fighter the Family had. It made sense, all of it – that didn't stop her hands from shaking, or her throat from closing up in panic.

"I don't trust you," Riana said. Being straightforward turned into a nasty little habit.

"That hurt, birdie. "

Riana continued, ignoring him. "But I need to be able to work with you."

In the dim light, Vico took a step towards her. "I'd promise not to stab you in the back," he said, giving her a long look, "but I think I'm the one who should be worried about that."

That tempting image made her pause before opening her mouth to speak.

Vico cut her off. "What's with the self mutilation?" A callused hand pointed to the sword that had wound up in the far corner of the room. Riana could still see the white light coming from it. Once, she'd reveled in it – now, it just hurt her eyes.

"How about we stay on topic?" she said, her hand going up to rub at the dried blood on her forehead.

"I am." He eyed the wound on her palm. "You're less than useless to me like that." The cold, professional once over he gave her brought a strange sense of relief. "Don't expect me to coddle you on this trip."

Riana gave him a tired shrug. "I wouldn't dream of it."

The cold crept into his voice. "I mean it, birdie." The way he looked at her now, like she was nothing to him, just a soldier to be used and discarded made for a welcome change. She could live with that. "The moment you start slowing me down, I'll knock you on your ass and leave you there."

Fair enough. "As long as I get to do the same to you." Riana had no intention on slowing anyone down, and if he'd keep his distance, things could work out after all.

With a blink, the ice melted, and a leer settled back on his face. "You get to do anything you like to me, sweetie."

So much for that. Riana slowly traced the blade on her hip. "A strange thing to say to a woman whose favorite dream starts by slicing your balls off with a dull dagger." Being straightforward had its moments. "But to each his own," she shrugged.

That bothered him, she could tell, but the leer stayed in place. "Are we done posturing?"

Posturing beat being afraid any day of the week, but she couldn't very well tell him that.

Vico cocked his head, one hand going up to rub the back of his neck. "You know, I think that this is the longest conversation we've ever had."

True, and in a perfect world, it would end with her knife in his throat to commemorate the occasion.

Crouching down, Vico reached into the pack next to him and tossed some bandages and a herbal ointment her way. He pointed to her palm. "Clean that up before you drink a healing potion." The smell of the herbs made her eyes water. "That'll ward off infection.

Her first, childish instinct said to throw it all back in his face, but she pushed it down it and managed a nod his way before she started cleaning the wound. It came as no surprise that it hurt like hell. When she looked up, Vico stood beside her, her sword in his hands, a thick woolen scarf wrapped around the hilt, between the steel and his skin.

"Where did you get this?" he frowned down at her.

Riana continued spreading the balm over her skin. "I didn't steal it, if that's what you're asking." She hissed through her teeth – the damn concoction burned worse than the wound itself.

A snort answered her. "Like I give a shit if you stole it or not."

"I found it in the palace." She went looking for it, truth be told. "It's mine." Made for her alone, the one good memory no one could take away, she'd thought. Showed what she knew.

"I can see how it would be useful in a fight." Vico rolled his eyes at her. "Burning your hand off and all."

Riana tried to close that hand into a fist and almost blacked out from the pain. "That's a recent development," she said. He didn't need to know anything else.

In the following silence, she tried to move her fingers, one at a time and found it didn't hurt any less. She took the bandage and started wrapping it around her hand, trying to figure out how to put everything she needed to say to him into words. She did owe him, and they needed to find some way to work together, for Nathan's sake.

"This is a paladin blade, isn't it?"

The circular movement of the bandage stopped. Everything stopped. Blinking slowly, twice, Riana looked up to see him smiling down on her – a biting, mocking smile.

"I figured something was off," he said. "The damn thing makes my skin crawl." The barb wire smile widened. "So, you were an actual paladin, then?"

No, but she could have been one. Ser Perth had made that blade for her, years ago, on her twelfth birthday, and the light of his god lived in it – a gift for a clumsy scrap of a girl with scraped knees, gangly limbs and an awakening curiosity about the world. _It's too big for you now_, he'd said, _but you'll grow into it_. And she had. Soon enough, his god had become hers as well, and the blade became as a part of her hand. Riana remembered how it felt to hold it, to feel that rightness wash over her, that feeling of someone there, always listening.

All she felt now was empty.

Vico continued. "That's a lofty perch to fall from. How does it feel, stumbling around in the dark with the rest of us?" The way he said it made her teeth clench.

She wouldn't let it show, though.

His smile turned ugly. "With me."

_No. Never that_.

"It's a hell of a kick, you know?"

She forced herself to speak. "What is?"

Vico fingered the slight burn on his own palm and crouched down next to her. "That this god of yours thinks we're the same."

"We're not." Something ugly and scared rose up in her and whispered _liar_ into her ear.

"That half of your hand burned into a crisp begs to differ."

He sounded entirely too happy about that. "That makes me as unworthy as you." She shook her head, letting it all sink in. "It doesn't make me the same as you." There, something she could hold on to.

"It's a start." The smile he gave her chilled her to the bone.

Voices drifted into the room, urgent and loud – Alfons giving out last minute instructions. Riana cleared her throat, remembering where she was, what she had to do and how little time she had to do it. "We need to talk," she said.

"I'd say we're done talking." Vico wiped his palms on his leggings, looking towards the back room. "It's time to get a move on."

It was, but not before she said what she had to. "I do owe you, Vico."

"Said that already, didn't I?" He cut her off with a shrug. "Plenty of long nights on the road." Vico gave her mouth a lingering stare. "If I wake up to you getting me off, you won't hear me complain."

That image made her stomach rise in a dry heave. Shoving the nausea back, she pretended he hadn't said anything and kept going. "This," she gestured between them, "this needs to work." Before he could deliberately misinterpret that, she said, "You didn't have to take my side in there, but you did." The words caught in her throat, but she forced them out. "So you get a clean slate." She could do that – look at him and not want to see him bleed. _Liar_, that voice whispered in her ear again. "You get to be a stranger to me." After today, she owed him that. She needed this to work.

"A clean slate?" Vico pushed himself off the ground and stood up, towering over her. "You think that was about getting you to forgive me?" The mocking scowl on his face threatened to push her into doing something she'd regret. "I don't give a shit if you forgive me or not, birdie."

The day she forgave him would be the day the sun burned black. "The reason why you had my back in there doesn't matter," Riana ground out between clenched teeth, willing herself not to tell him to go to hell. Willing herself to believe it. "The fact that you had does."

"Like I said. Pay me back."

He made it so easy to hate him. Clawing her way past it, Riana swallowed it down, the resentment leaving a bitter taste on her tongue. "Do you have to make this so hard?" she said, forcing the words out.

Vico leaned down, his hand reaching out towards her face. "I just killed for you," he said. "Did that make you wet, princess?" His fingers wound into her hair before she could pull back and took a fistful of it in a loose grip

_He grabs her by the hair and smashes her head back against the ground. "__Hold still, bitch!"_

Everything went black - in a flash, her boot connected with his knee, making him fall forward. Riana looked at the knife she had against his throat, held by a shaking hand, and wondered how it had gotten there. "Don't touch me," was the only thing she could force past lips suddenly numb, still lost in the memory, before she pulled the knife away.

She shouldn't have – bruising fingers took hold of her wrist, twisting the knife from her hand. When Vico looked at her, eyes black with rage, Riana shivered. After a drawn out moment, he let go of her hand.

"If you were someone else, you'd be dead right now," he said, climbing to his feet.

If she were someone else, she wouldn't be here at all. "You raped me," she said, the whisper coming out without her wanting it to. The first time she'd said that out loud. "You don't get to touch me." She swallowed, getting up as well and backing away from him. "You don't get to talk to me like that." Not like he had every right in the world to whisper dirty little nothings into her ear. Just the thought of it made her sick.

Watching her lean back against the wall, Vico laughed. "And how are you going to stop me?"

Her fingers itched to grab the knife, but she forced herself to try again, one last time. "Neither of us needs to worry about getting our throats slit while sleeping." If that sounded like a threat, she was fine with that. "So just stop reminding me. Please." That word made her choke – she'd said it the first time they met and it hadn't worked then, either. "Do that, and I'll let it go. I'll forget." She would – even if it killed her. She owed it to Nathan.

That appraising look came back. "You're right about one thing," he said. "We do need to get a few things straight. One." He took a step towards her. "I'll say what I like, when I like." Another step, then two more. "Two. You do what I say, not the other way around.." The chill that went through her when Vico stood in front of her, his hands on either side of her head, wasn't all from the stone wall she leaned on. "Three. If I happen to fancy you again, it won't really matter if you say no."

The crack of bone breaking when her fist connected with his nose had to be the sweetest sound she'd ever heard. Riana pushed to her left, putting some distance between them, and reached for the blade strapped to the small of her back, expecting him to come at her.

To her surprise, Vico just laughed, blood running down his face. "What's the matter, princess? You do know how to uncross those legs, don't you? Or does it take a pry bar to get those stiff knees of yours to open?"

That settled it – there couldn't be a truce between them, not now, not ever. Not even for Nathan. And he was still coming with her - she couldn't do a damn thing about that. With a deep breath, Riana suppressed the rising tangle of feelings that threatened to drown her.

"You know, I shouldn't have killed that Dhorn," she suddenly said, somehow managing a conversational tone.

Vico had his head thrown back, trying to stem the bleeding. "Which Dhorn?" A laugh escaped him again – he seemed almost happy she'd punched him. "You killed a lot of them."

She kept her voice neutral, casual. "He had information I wanted." Jerro, that had been his name. "I was looking for Charon's killers."

"You went after Dhorn officers?" He shook his head, then touched the bridge of his nose, his face scrunching up. "Stupid bitch."

"I'm here," Riana said. "They're not."

"The gods look after orphans and fools. " Vico shrugged, wiping the blood off his face with his sleeve. "You're lucky you're both."

Riana chose to ignore that. "He thought I was a whore. I let him." It had been such an easy choice, back then, as obsessed as she'd been with finding Charon's killers. "And when I had what I wanted, I killed him." She still recalled the surprised look on his face with some satisfaction. "Because I couldn't stand the thought of him breathing after that." Riana shook her head. "That wasn't justice." Her god had turned away from her that day.

"Get to the fucking point, birdie."

Oh, she was getting there. "Only three men had ever been inside of me," she said, letting a smile Ser Perth wouldn't understand spread across her face. "I've killed two."

"Is that supposed to scare me?"

Why not? It scared her. With an outward calm she didn't feel, Riana stood up and walked towards the door. "Come on," she said. "Alfons is waiting."

She didn't look back.

* * *

**Author's note:**

Reviews make a writer's day. Also, I'm interested in what people think about this chapter. It was difficult for me to write, and there are still some things that I'm not really happy with.


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